The Bandroom
by Leri Galvin
Summary: Here's life as seen through the eyes of a sixteen-year old girl who plays trombone . . .
1. Water, Water, Everywhere

I stepped out of the car into the rain and walked around to the trunk to get my stuff out. That successful, I closed it and leaned into the open passenger window. "I'll be careful, Mom! And I'll have fun for sure!"  
  
"Okay, you sure you got everything? Toothpaste, extra socks, enough water?"  
  
"Yeah, Mom." I rolled my eyes. She always did that. Oh well. Didn't hurt to check and make sure I had everything I needed. "See you Friday!!"  
  
I extracted myself from the window so she could roll it up and waved. She waved back. I picked up my bags and watched her drive off. After she turned out of the parking lot, I turned around and walked into the bandroom. Once inside, I stopped and looked around. About twelve people were already there along with a large pile of luggage. I sighed contentedly. The bandroom was one of my favorite hangouts. There was almost always someone willing to play euchre, or do something.  
  
Today was the first day of marching band camp. I got out of the doorway so Jos and Becca, who had shown up behind me, could come in. I set down my bags in an unoccupied corner near the doorway. I watched Jos, third year marcher like me and the only tenor sax player left this year, come in and set her things next to mine. She's a junior like me.  
  
"So I see your hair's blonde now, Jos. Hey, Becca." I remarked casually. She tended to dye her hair at least twice a year, and when I had last seen her, it was bright red.  
  
"Yeah. I decided to go a little more natural." I wasn't sure what that meant because I was never really sure what her true hair color was. I assumed it was blonde, though. She and I really became friends last year, sparked off by a collaboration at last year's band camp on Lip Sync Night. Jos and I quickly became best friends after that. She was the craziest person I have ever met, quick to tease someone and very spontaneous, but would keep anyone's secret without question. I trusted her with my life (most of the time).  
  
Becca was more on the cynical side of things. Top of her class with a 4.0, (she's a senior) she had an infallible work ethic and loved order, well, at least when she could have it. Order was not an option when Jos was around. Becca had learned quickly not to mind when Jos decided to pile everyone in her van on the last day of school last year at the drop of a hat to take all of us to McDonald's where we ending up spending two hours shooting straw wrappers at each other. We almost got kicked out. Still, that didn't deter us since we were on our way out anyway.  
  
"Have you seen the new band director around?" I asked suddenly of Jos.  
  
"Yeah, we met him last week, remember?"  
  
"No, the new band director."  
  
"Yeah," she said, getting a little annoyed. "His name is Mr. Nodin."  
  
"No, Jos. We have another new band director."  
  
"WHAT?!" She hadn't heard, then.  
  
"Yeah, his name is Mr. Calhoun, I think. My mom got a call from one of the band boosters saying that Nodin got a better offer closer to where he lived, and decided to take that. Apparently our school hadn't officially hired him, but he had instead signed a letter of intent. And this Calhoun guy was actually the school's first choice, but they called on Nodin because he, quote, 'had more experience'." I let it all come out in a rush. "And, umm, they called Calhoun Saturday and hired him, my mom said. She then lectured me on what I could do to keep people from resenting this, like I wasn't going to do it anyway, and that no one was sure about what was going to happen this season."  
  
Jos was taken aback. "But . . . but . . . Nodin was good!"  
  
"But he left us. Get over it."  
  
We started chatting about our how the summer went, until I glanced over at the door in time to see Pierce come in, followed closely by Kalea. Ever since pre-band camp last week, Jos and I had the distinct notion that they liked each other. Between Jos's newfound obsession with the word "DOOM!!" and threatening to "destroy" Kalea, Jos found time to light-heartedly tease her about Pierce, at which she would get defensive and blush. It was amusing to watch.  
  
"Hey, look! Pierce and Kalea!" I pointed out.  
  
"DOOM!! You shall be DE-stroyed!" Jos yelled at Kalea. Kalea pretended to cringe, then headed over to our little roost and put down her things, followed by Pierce. Jos informed them of the change in directorship, while I watched a guy I had never seen before enter uncertainly, luggage in hand, and begin to wander in our direction. He was wearing knee-length khaki shorts and a black Coldplay t-shirt under a raincoat. Most striking about him was his face, strongly-featured with dark brown hair and short goatee coupled with intense green eyes. He looked to be about sixteen or seventeen. The rest of him wasn't bad, either, come to think of it. Whoa, Lyssa, I thought to myself, you're moving a little too fast after what happened with Will this summer.  
  
Just before the new guy came in, Will walked in, spotted me, and slunk away like a bruised cat. Good. He deserved it. At least he didn't try to talk to me. That was bound to happen later, though, I realized with dread. I had no desire to talk to that jerk.  
  
I had been going out with Will for part of the school year and most of the summer, but I called it off after he began getting too controlling over my life and strangely possessive. By that time, I was getting really tired of his constant calling and asking to go on yet another date. It was but three weeks ago when I told him I was leaving for a week at our cabin in the Upper Peninsula, and he got really depressed. I came back to find he left five or six phone messages for me. It was getting to the point where I felt like my own boyfriend was stalking me, and I couldn't stand it anymore. I called him and told him that I just gotten back from my vacation, and I needed a few days to unpack and get in touch with the rest of the world for a while. He got offended and began accusing me of all sorts of things I had never done. I argued back and eventually hung up on him. He immediately called back, but I refused to answer it, and did so for the remainder of the summer until now. That was the last straw. The next day I e-mailed him a message saying it was over. He called four times that evening while I was in the shower, and my mom told him off. She was my hero that night. Still, the whole thing hurt. A lot.  
  
I told myself to get off that train of thought, and elbowed Jos, who was threatening to destroy Kalea again. I said, indicating the kid who just walked though the door, "Who is that guy?"  
  
"Dunno. Looks cute . . . Hey, you!" she yelled, pointing at the guy. He looked up questioningly, "Yes, you! Come over here and introduce yourself! We don't bite!"  
  
He picked his way through the mounds of luggage and intsruments hiding the floor. Reaching us, he said, "Hi. My name's Vincent Nolan, but just call me 'Vin'."  
  
"Hey, Vin," we all said, almost in unison. I stepped forward and introduced myself. "I'm Lyssa Melekan. I play trombone."  
  
"I play drums. I was the jazz band drummer back at my school in Minnesota."  
  
"Lucky you! We don't have a jazz band. Who knows, maybe Mr. Calhoun will form one this year."  
  
By that time, most everyone was in the bandroom, and I looked around to find still more gigantic mounds of luggage and water everywhere, both bottled and from people's feet. I saw our drum major, nicknamed Thor (because he was obsessed with the Norse thunder god), with, among other things, an electric guitar case. Why, I asked myself. He set down his guitar, looked around, and . . .  
  
"BAND ATTEN HUT!!"  
  
Everyone who wasn't new to the band stood up and yelled, "HUT!!" as loud as possible, then stood straight (a feat, considering the load most of the students had to carry in their backpacks during the year), eyes up, and hands at their sides. That is band attention.  
  
"At ease, but don't talk," Thor said. The band relaxed and looked around. A man I had never seen before stepped up, and said, "Welcome. Is everyone here?" in an aside to Thor. "  
  
"Mostly, I think."  
  
"Anyway, my name is Mr. Calhoun, and I am the new band director." People who hadn't heard this looked around and muttered amongst themselves in surprise. That made up most of the band. Thor glared at them but said nothing. I stayed silent and tried to judge him. He looked like an intelligent person. He was clearly nervous about the whole deal. I couldn't blame him, though. He got hired on Saturday, for crying out loud! It was a personal habit of mine to try and appraise someone new and see how right I was once I got to know the him (or her).  
  
Mr. Calhoun looked around nervously and said, "I know you were all expecting Mr. Nodin to be here, but he found a better job and took that. I am your new band director as of Saturday. The only show I could order on such short notice was a Tchaikovsky show, but I think we can pull it off."  
  
I nodded silently. I leaned over to Jos, and whispered in her ear, "Looks we have another good one, but he's nervous." She nodded, apparently getting the same impression I had.  
  
"The buses will be here soon, and you can load up then. Everyone with a large instrument can put it on the truck. You can continue talking now." Mr. Calhoun said, and walked over to one of the parent chaperones nearby and began talking quietly.  
  
The kids looked around uncomfortably at first, but several seconds later, the noise level was just as high as it was before Thor called us up. (By the way, "getting called up" is another way of saying, "getting called to attention.") I grabbed my trombone and Jos's tenor sax and made my way out to the truck. Par usual, the band was allotted the old rustbucket with the crappy battery yet again. (Once it wouldn't start before a big pep band gig, and my trombone was on it, and we had to load up a school pickup truck . . . let's not go there. That was funny only after it was over.) A couple of parents were standing outside the truck, taking equipment. I left our instruments with them, and that done, returned to the bandroom.  
  
Following one false alarm about the buses' arrival, they finally did come, and we loaded up. Jos, Becca, Pierce, Kalea, Vin, a few others, and I loaded up at the front. I was sitting with Jos. I looked out the rain- spattered window and watched the stragglers hurry up and get on the buses.  
  
I looked at Jos, and said, "Well, here we go. Band camp 2002."  
  
"Yep," she replied.  
  
"It's gonna be different this year, for sure. I will say that right now. I've got one of those feelings," I said. I looked up as the bus driver started the engine.  
  
Amid ragged cheers from the band, the buses began moving and we were on our way to band camp. 


	2. Tube Steaks and Toilet Paper

The bus ride was fairly uneventful. It was very noisy, since everyone was catching up on gossip and who knows what else. After about fifteen minutes, we turned onto a one-lane dirt road, rutted from years of use and poorly maintained. The first stop was at the girls' cabin. We unloaded as quickly as possible. I rushed in with approximately half of my things (Couldn't fit in the aisles with all of it), and claimed my usual bunk before anyone else could take it. I rushed back to get my pillow and backpack, deposited them on my bunk, and made my way down to the main lodge where the equipment truck awaited unloading. I climbed on to find that my way was obstructed by about fifty music stands (we'd never brought those before) and a bunch of pit equipment. As far as I knew, we had no pit this year. Oh well. It would get used, maybe. I unloaded the truck, with help from Vin and a couple others, and then hauled Jos's and my horns back to the girls' lodge.  
  
We still had about an hour to settle in and hang out, so I broke out the food (strictly prohibited, but everyone brought food anyway) and we made a party of it. Monday at band camp is the best Monday of the year, except maybe the first one after school lets out for the summer. You wake up at nine-thirty in the morning, and realize that you don't have to go to school. It is a great feeling.  
  
* * *  
  
Mr. Calhoun appointed Jos and I, both members of the VLB (stands for "Very Low Brass"), section leaders. As I surveyed the section Tuesday afternoon on the field about an hour before dinner (my stomach was noisily reminding me), I counted five out of the nine of us that were new. Three were freshmen; two were juniors. We had three new trombones, a baritone and a baritone-turned-tuba player. I sighed, then reached into my backpack and found what I was looking for: a chocolate covered granola bar. They didn't have any normal ones at the K-Mart across from the school when I was shopping for band camp food, so they had to suffice. They were good, though. Better than the camp food, for sure.  
  
"You remember, Jos, last year, the old dusty lodge, they actually served food there?" I asked, fondly remembering the turkey dinner they always served us for lunch on the last day, munching contentedly. Last year, the new mess hall, or whatever they wanted to call it (we were told basically to try NOT to make a mess there), was just getting started. They had completed it, and it was now in full operation. The old dusty lodge where we used to eat and do everything in was now used for everything but eating in. And the food just wasn't as good.  
  
"Yeah. I remember. Hot dogs (though everyone knows they are really tube steaks trying to take over the world!) for the first meal, turkey dinner for the last meal, with all sorts of variety in between. I wonder what they're doing tonight."  
  
"Dunno. Heard it was tacos, or something like that."  
  
It was. The meat could have been much better seasoned. Vin, Jos, Becca, Lynn, Pooh, Pierce, and I all sat down at one of the glossy, spotless tables toward the back of the lodge after getting food.  
  
"Hey, Pierce, where's Kalea?" asked Becca  
  
"I don't know." We waited for her to come, but she never did show up. After dinner, Jos, Becca, Pooh, and I walked back to the lodge to find Kalea on her bunk, reading a book. "Where were you at dinner?" Jos asked.  
  
"Wasn't hungry," was Kalea's reply.  
  
"Oh."  
  
* * *  
  
That night, I got roped into a game of truth or dare. I never liked the game, being slightly modest and never eager to divulge personal information. Still, I reluctantly agreed to play.  
  
"So, Lyssa: Truth or dare?" Pooh asked. I knew better than to pick dare. Once when I was at a sleepover when I was six or seven, I was dared to moon the neighbors. I steadfastly refused and another girl ended up completing the dare.  
  
"Truth," I replied. Pooh looked unhappy. Obviously she had a great dare for me. Oh well. She could use it on someone else. Pooh was a senior like Becca, and Pooh really wasn't her real name. Her real name was Lyssa, like me, and that caused a bit of friendly rivalry between us (which sometimes resulted in bruises). After she completed high school, she planned to join the Army.  
  
"Let me think for a minute . . . Okay, I have one for you: Who do you like in the marching band?"  
  
A typical band camp truth-or-dare question. I got asked that my freshman year by one of the chaperones staying in the cabin that night. I never really gave an answer, though.  
  
All of the girls stared at me. I looked around uncomfortably at them and blushed a little. A few started giggling. "I couldn't really say, to tell the truth . . . Well, there is that new drummer, Vin . . . but he is just nice. Probably the closest thing to actually liking someone in the band," I finished quickly.  
  
Pooh thought I was going to answer, "Will, of course," and looked at me, shocked. "What happened to Will, Lyssa?"  
  
"Two weeks ago, I called it off. He was being a jerk for most of the summer." By this time, the lodge was silent. "Umm, he wouldn't stop calling and I felt smothered, like he wasz stalking me, or something. He . . ." I broke off. I couldn't say anymore. Jos, who was sitting on my bunk with me, looked at me concernedly, hoping I was okay. She had heard this before in slightly more detail. It still hurt to think about it.  
  
I was quiet for the rest of the night, deep in thought. Do I really like Vin? This is happening so fast after . . . what happened. After things went downhill with Will, I felt so alienated, so cut off from the world. I felt . . . alone. I talked with Jos afterwards, and that had helped. She had been through a similar relationship a couple of years back. Amazing, I thought, how people can feel like they are the only ones in the world going through this. But what surprised me was how quickly Vin's name popped into my head when Pooh asked me that question. I went to sleep troubled by that question.  
  
* * *  
  
I woke up at six-fifteen the next morning, feeling better, except that I was so congested it wasn't funny. Mold was growing in the cabin somewhere, undoubtedly. I put my glasses on and climbed out of my sleeping bag and down the ladder. A few other people were stirring. I walked across the sock- strewn floor, shivering in the predawn chill, wishing I had brought my fuzzy robe. I would have brought it, but I ran out of space in my duffel bag. I turned around and grabbed my polar fleece blanket, which was hanging half off my bed. I grabbed my bag with my hairbrush in it, once I remembered I had forgotten that, too. I shuffled into the bathroom and pulled my hair back, shuffled out, grabbed some clothes, shuffled back into the bathroom, which was getting nicely warm and humid (ahh, my nose cleared up some) thanks to a few other girls getting their showers (I had gotten mine the night before), changed, and shuffled out again. A few lights were on when I came back out, and most of the girls were up. I climbed back into my bunk and looked at my watch. 6:30. Breakfast at seven-thirty. Plenty of time to do . . . something. I poked around until I found my book and read a little until I heard Jos's voice carry over from the other side of the lodge. I put down my book, climbed down, and wandered over.  
  
"'Mornin'," I muttered. My voice was thick from congestion. Great.  
  
"Hello," said Jos. She was pulling on a pair of pants. It was supposed to get up to seventy-five degrees; how does that girl stay cool?  
  
6:45. "Fifteen minutes, and we can head down for breakfast."  
  
"It's not 'till seven-thirty," Jos complained.  
  
"If you want to get a good place in line, we had better head down about seven." She couldn't argue. We were sharing the camp this year with a couple other groups, and the lines got very long, even with the staggered lunch times.  
  
We waited for Becca, Pooh, and Kalea to get ready and we headed down as a group, with the omnipresent freshmen tagging along behind us. The freshmen tended to idolize the upperclassmen. Don't ask why; they just do. I was a freshman once myself, and did the same thing, though I don't know why.  
  
We reached the main lodge, and found several other people from the band already hanging out there.  
  
"Morning!" I called happily. I had woken up in the chill and found that I was in a good mood.  
  
They all responded. Vin and Pierce walked over and joined us. "How ya doin'?" I asked Vin.  
  
"Tired, but good. The guys were up last night pranking each other."  
  
"Typical." I had heard horror stories from the guys about what went on in that lodge. People would get saran-wrapped to their beds, toilet papered, and shaving-creamed, all at once. "You didn't get 'got,' did you, Vin?"  
  
"Nah. I participated," he replied with a devilish twinkle in his eye. "We got Ryan, the senior in your section, so good that when he woke up this morning, he couldn't move an inch! I think he should be out by now. I think some of the other guys got Will, that weird clarinet player."  
  
I smiled inwardly. Sucks for him. We walked for a while, and then the doors to the new lodge opened. "Vin, breakfast is ready!"  
  
We went off to breakfast, and got ready for the day. 


	3. ET Gone Wrong

Vin and I walked out of the breakfast hall and into the parking area just outside. Today was Wednesday. The dance was tonight. I looked at Vin, who was walking beside me. Today he was wearing blue denim shorts and a white t- shirt proclaiming, "Drumline." His hair was hidden under a black baseball cap.  
  
He excused himself, saying that he needed to get something from his lodge. I had everything I needed for the field work this morning: water, duct tape, horn, etc, so I had no need to go back to my lodge, which was about 500 yards away from the food lodges. Duct tape is an essential part of a marching band person's life. It can fix instruments, teach people how to roll step, annoy people, be used to bribe or threaten with, shut people up, or in extreme cases, "force" someone to leave you alone (Bwa ha ha!). Duct tape is very good.  
  
I watched his retreating form, and jumped when Jos suddenly elbowed me and whispered in my ear, "Oh, he's just a nice guy, eh? I think someone likes Vin!"  
  
"No, he's just a friend!" I exclaimed. Was he? Or was he actually more than a friend?  
  
"Ooh, someone's blushing again! You're so cute when you do that!" she replied, mischief written on every line of her face. I rubbed my face.  
  
Vin returned a few minutes later with his drumsticks and began tinkering with the quints he was assigned. All of a sudden, he jumped into a complicated and demanding routine. The area got silent. His sticks were flying across the drums, and he didn't miss a single hit. I stood, amazed at the wall of rhythm and sound. He finished and looked around at the intrigued faces. A few people began applauding. He was really very talented. Wow. I thought, Okay, so he's talented. Yeah. I tried to deny any sort of, umm, interest in Vin. I told myself firmly that he was just a friend.  
  
"Hey, Vin, that was great!" I said.  
  
"Thanks! Umm, hey, what are do we doing this evening?" he asked, changing the subject.  
  
"It's Wednesday, so there will be a dance tonight. That and Lip Sync Night are my personal favorites. Between the two, I couldn't decide." We always had a barrage of evening activities. Monday we had a sort of "Get to know everyone" game, and Tuesday we were separated into groups, and each group was given a crate with some props. The object was to come up with a skit using those. I ended up in a group with Thor, and he became "E.T, Gone Wrong," in which he was had the crate upended on his head, and he got to crazy and "kill" the "scientific convention" coming to see him. His younger sister, Larna, was in our group as well, and pretended to kick him (not quite in the plan, but it was great) because he refused to "die" fast enough. It was hilarious.  
  
"Cool. Can we bring CDs for the dance?"  
  
"Yeah. That's the only way we get music." I smiled at him, and heard someone clapping as if to call us up. I glanced over, and saw that it was one of the freshmen. Figures. That was a favorite pastime for every freshman class. Clap like you are going to call up the band, and see how many people look over. I looked back at Vin and rolled my eyes. "Freshmen."  
  
"Ah."  
  
"BAND ATTEN HUT!" Thor roared.  
  
"HUT-J!" the band yelled. Half of the band remembered to say "F-J," the other half, well . . . All was still and silent in the area, until Thor broke the silence.  
  
"YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO SAY 'F-J'!" yelled Thor. The attention reply had been changed from "Hut" to "F-J," for Frederick Jennings High School, the name of our school. Jennings was our first superintendent, back in the twenties, probably when it was nameless, or something. Jennings was some sort of legend nowadays, though no one really knows why.  
  
I rolled my eyes. It was going to take a while to make that habit. Thor proceeded to tell us to line up so we could march out to the field.  
  
* * *  
  
Practice was uneventful. Our staff (other than Mr. Calhoun), Miss Cathorn (the brass instructor), Mr. Chapman (the drum instructor, who also worked for Pepsi and both of whom were new this year), and Carla, the color guard instructor, were there. Carla was our guard person last year. She was cool. I didn't really have an opinion of Cathorn and Chapman yet.  
  
At lunch, the bunch of us grouped together again to talk. Once again, we were having Mexican style food. Nachos.  
  
I picked through the fried rice (smelled good, however tasted rather bland) on my tray and said, "We're doing music this afternoon, right?"  
  
"Yep," said Becca. "Looks like sectionals again."  
  
I groaned inwardly. I wanted a full band rehearsal. Sectionals meant the VLB was lumped in with the trumpets, and Miss Cathorn would alternate between the sections. It got very boring. Much more would get done with a full rehearsal, anyway.  
  
So, after lunch, the VLB met outside to start off sectionals. They were having some trouble with the music (it was not easy at all this year, which kind of comes with the whole not having a lot of choice for shows this year), so I found Miss Cathorn and asked for her help. She disappeared for a brief time, and then called us over to a patch of ground, where the trumpets were congregated. I leaned over to Jos and asked her, "Didn't I ask for some help with music, not to join the trumpets for a communal rehearsal?"  
  
"Yeah, I think so."  
  
"Maybe she thinks there are rhythms that both groups have, and she doesn't want to spend the time teaching both groups separately, or something."  
  
"Maybe," she replied, and we told the section to head over to where Cathorn was waiting, a little on the impatient side.  
  
We spent maybe a half-hour plugging through music (with little success), and then Cathorn, rather disgusted, gave us a ten-minute break when people began getting restless. Little really happened, I thought. I looked across the way at some trumpets, who were looking at a music stand and giggling. Curiosity got the better of me and I wandered over to look.  
  
Figures. A couple of ladybugs had landed on the music stand and were busy chasing each other around. They looked like little racecars on an ever- changing track. It was actually very funny.  
  
"What's going on over here? Dan gave us a break," a familiar voice said behind me. I turned around and saw Vin. Dan was Chapman's first name. "Ha, a couple of ladybugs, chasin' each other around the music stand." I said happily. "It's a common trait for the band people here to be entertained by rather dumb things."  
  
"Ah, it's kinda the same everywhere," he replied. Miss Cathorn ambled over, curious about the commotion. She saw what we were watching and walked away disdainfully. I watched her leave. I really was beginning to not like her. She struck a few . . . bad chords with me, so to speak. Jos came over with a plastic cup full of water from the cooler (the camp water was heavy in iron, so it tasted bad), looked at the music stand, and walked away, shaking her head and smiling.  
  
That was about the most exciting event of the afternoon.  
  
* * *  
  
Dinner was done and over with, and everyone was given an hour to get ready for the dance. Some of the girls hit the showers, since the temperature skyrocketed to eighty-five instead of seventy-five like the forecast had said Monday morning. Ah well, good ol' unpredictable Michigan weather. Gotta love it.  
  
Not wanting to go to the dance with wet hair (I don't bother with hair dryers) I just changed into a light blue tank top, khaki shorts and topped that off with a short-sleeve white button-up that I didn't dare wear without something under it (it was more on the, um, semitranslucent side). I went into the bathroom and pulled the upper layers of my hair into a ponytail, leaving the lower layers down. Usually all of my hair stays back.  
  
I read my book for a while, and checked my watch. Seven-thirty. I craned my head around the corner (I take my usual bunk every year for good reason: I don't have to get down to look around the corner to the other side) and yelled to Jos on the other side, "You ready yet?"  
  
"Yeah, just a sec!" she replied. I climbed down from my bunk and pulled on my pair of Merrell sandals. I loved those things, and I also had no need to wear socks with them. Socks in warm weather like this should be made illegal. She appeared around the corner. "Wow, Lyssa!" she exclaimed, noting my appearance. "Trying to impress someone, are we?" She smiled knowingly. I glared at her. Usually I wore just t-shirts and shorts, nothing really preppy or necessarily stylish even, so this was dressing up for me.  
  
"No, I just felt like dressing up a little." Avoiding her eyes, I reached up into my bunk and grabbed my camera. "I almost forgot this." I picked up my CDs from the floor where I had put them earlier in the day and we set out for the old lodge, where Pierce was setting up the sound system.  
  
"Hey, Pierce. Kalea will be along in a moment," I said as we walked in. He looked at me and smiled, acknowledging me.  
  
Vin was there already, wearing the khaki shorts and a Hawaiian-patterned button-up shirt, mainly navy blue in color, and a pair of Teva sandals. I had a pair of Tevas once, but I wore them out after a couple of years of using them to scramble around the rocks on our beach in the summer. Much fun, that was . . .  
  
I waved at him, and he grinned back.  
  
Suddenly, loud rock music poured out of the speakers in front. A large group of marchers walked in and began dancing. The dance had begun! It was about eight o'clock. Right on schedule. I stood off to the side with Kalea, Jos, Vin, and Becca. Pierce was still running the sound system. We stood and talked for a while, and then, of all things, the Chicken Dance came on. Jos dragged everyone out onto the dance floor and made us go through the motions. It was funny to watch everyone dance and laugh at everyone else at the same time.  
  
The song ended, to everyone's relief, and more normal songs came on. Pierce joined us. A few songs later, a slow song came on. Pierce led Kalea away, and Jos and I exchanged knowing smiles. I spotted them slow dancing and raised my camera. Ha ha. I pointed, and shot the picture. A flash of light filled the room, and Kalea glared at me. She wasn't mad, though. After the song was over, she came over and threatened to DE-stroy my camera, but I just grinned and let her threaten doom to all. She subsided and laughed, then made me promise to show her the picture when I got it developed. I agreed with a smile.  
  
We hung out for the first half of the dance, snacking on the food the camp staff put out. Another slow song came on, and Will appeared out of nowhere. I tired to ignore him, but he planted himself in front of me and whined, "Lyssa, please. Give me one more chance. Just dance with me, please!"  
  
I looked at him, disgusted. He tried to contort his features into a look of compassion, but instead he looked like a desperate fool. "No, Will," I said, looking him in the eye. "I have given you enough chances, and you have only taken advantage of my patience, tolerance, and extreme allowances. I have had enough of that-"  
  
He interrupted me. "Just give me one more chance! I can improve-"  
  
"NO! I am SO glad you're a senior, because I don't have to put up with you next year!" I turned and walked away, leaving him shocked and watching me. I decided never to speak to him again, even upon the pain of death. I walked out the door and sat outside on the porch, fighting the emotional reaction that commonly followed these outbursts. I looked around me at the fireflies dancing in the air, and the bright stars. It was beautiful. I loved it when Nature gave displays like that. After a couple of minutes of watching and letting go of my mind, I had calmed down. Someone sat down beside me and put a comforting arm around me. I jumped, coming suddenly out of my wanderings.  
  
"Sorry . . . you all right?" Vin asked, concerned.  
  
"Yeah, I'm okay, I think. W-Will and I broke up a couple of weeks ago, and I guess both of us are still trying to get over it. I got disgusted with him . . . he thinks he can get me back, but it's not happening . . . I gave him too many chances . . ." I broke off. Why was I spilling this to someone I barely knew?  
  
Vin's arm tightened around me. He was so close . . .  
  
"Jos is telling him off right now. We should go back inside and enjoy the rest of the dance." We walked slowly back to the door. I cast one glance back toward the fireflies and the splendor behind me. "I-It's beautiful out tonight."  
  
"Yeah, it sure is," he replied. He sounded genuine. Another thing we had in common . . .  
  
We walked back inside to see Will slink away from Jos. People began staring at us. Jos spotted us and grinned. Sensing my discomfort, Vin let go. I regretted that, but I didn't want rumors starting.  
  
Jos ran over, grabbed Vin, and dragged him away. I rejoined the others and sat down in an empty chair. They didn't really say anything. A minute or two later, Jos, mischief written on every line of her face, reappeared with Vin behind her, looking a little embarrassed. He sat next to me, looking uncomfortable, and when another slow song started, Vin asked suddenly, "Yawannadancewithme?" making it all one word. I looked at his crimson face, and replied, "Sure!"  
  
He took my hands in his and led me out onto the dance floor.  
  
* * *  
  
I climbed onto my bunk and sighed passionately. Vin and I had danced for the rest of the evening, and afterward stood and looked at the stars before heading off to our respective bunks. I changed into my pajamas, brushed my teeth, and let down my hair in a slight daze. I went back to my bunk and climbed into my sleeping bag. I found my book and opened it up to the page I had marked. Several minutes later, a grinning face poked up over my open book. I had then realized that I had not really been reading, just staring at the page, lost in thought. I looked up. It was Jos. She climbed the rest of the way into my bunk and sat on my legs. "You should have seen the look on your face!" I smiled at her and said nothing. "You're blushing," she said suddenly.  
  
"So?" I tried to be annoyed, but it wasn't working. I was in too good a mood. After a couple of minutes, Jos left and headed back over to her bunk to listen to her favorite Japanese pop CD and read the latest Superman comic.  
  
I went to sleep smiling, Vin's green eyes shining in my mind. I had to admit he was definitely more than just a friend. 


End file.
